Domesticity Meme Stories
by Robina Snyder
Summary: Short ficlets written for the five Domesticity Memes I did on tumblr. Featuring Samifer, Sabriel, Sastiel, Debriel and Jucifer.
1. Samifer

**Samifer**

* * *

"Did he do it again?" Lucifer murmured. He sounded sleepy, but Sam knew damn well that Lucifer doesn't sleep. Sometimes it annoys Sam, because Lucifer, when it suits him, can be very impatient. Sam knows damn well that Lucifer knows Sam needs to sleep to survive, but sometimes Lucifer pretends like he doesn't. But tonight Sam is very. Very glad that Lucifer doesn't sleep. He dives back in to Lucifer's blanket cocoon and snuggles in to the warmth. Lucifer isn't shivering, which is a good sign.

"Yeah, it's just… you know… the usual," Sam mutters.

"How expensive is it gonna be?"

"Oh, it's not bed, like ten bucks or something. Castiel's just mad about the principal of the thing. He's worried their pharmacist is going to think that one of them is abusing the other, or trying to make a meth lab by the speed at which they buy medication."

"Yeah," Lucifer responded. There wasn't much to say.

They tried to not talk about it. Hell, their whole relationship was built on not talking about things. But this was different because not only was it not something one or the other of them did, it was something neither of them could stop. Castiel was falling, for real this time. And unlike Lucifer's crash landing, Castiel's grace was bleeding away. It replenished less and less when Castiel used it. Lucifer could see it was getting to a point where it was bleeding out on its own. Lucifer didn't think Castiel would have a year before he'd be as good as human.

"They'll make up," Sam said, hugging tighter to his angel.

"They always do Sam, don't sound too worried," Lucifer soothed. Maybe he was the one most affected by it all. Castiel had started falling before, but he'd been allowed back in heaven and his grace had restored. He knew what the slow bleed felt like, and Lucifer got the idea that Castiel didn't mind being more human. For certain being human meant not losing the person you loved in the blink of an eye.

But Lucifer worried, and not just about Castiel. Lucifer had never considered the slow bleed as a way to fall. He fell with all his grace intact. Even cut off from God and heaven, trapped in a place where all the warmth in the world (warmth came from his father, after all) would never touch. But Lucifer was still an angel. What would he become if he started the slow bleed, if Michael could actually kill him?

Lucifer gripped tighter to Sam and Sam kissed his brow. Lucifer relaxed a little. Sam at least knew him well enough to pick up on his signs. Sam knew when he needed a distraction. Oh well, Dean would get the blame later for Sam oversleeping in the morning, why not indulge a little?

* * *

**A/N: Hey, I did five Domesticity memes, and decided to try and write short things for them…. because I want to, okay? **


	2. Sastiel

Sam and Dean get the flu at exactly the same time. Castiel, being an angel, is the only one in the house to not get sick. This is a problem.

Sam doesn't like it when Castiel just heals them and fixes everything. Normally Dean backs him up on this, because the pain reminds them of their limits, and Dean's worried that he and Sam will get cocky and really screw up if they're always getting healed. But Dean has already consented to an angel healing for how miserable his current state is. Sam's the only one still holding out, and that means that Castiel isn't healing anyone.

"Can I at least help in a normal human way?" Castiel asks, looking from the love seat where Dean is curled up in a ball under a mountain of blankets, to Sam who's all spread out on the sofa with the rest of the blankets.

"Yes," both brother chime. They are both admittedly miserable.

"What can I do?" Castiel asked, having never had to tend to the sick before.

"Hungry," Dean said from his blanket ball. Sam has to agree. He feels bad enough that even chicken soup sounds delicious. It'll at least make his sour throat feel better.

"Yeah, how about making us some soup?" Sam suggested. Castiel looks unsure. "It's easy, just boil water, add the mix, and cook for a few minutes," he adds.

Only, only in Sam's sickness-wracked state would he think this was a good idea.

It doesn't even take ten minutes before both brothers smell burning. It takes another minute before they realize the grave, grave error Sam just made by allowing Castiel to walk into the kitchen. Both brothers are out of their blankets and tripping over themselves and their blankets to get to the kitchen. Whatever vertigo of dizziness is nothing compared to the sheer terror of having allowed the angel in the kitchen.

There was good reason too. The entire stove was ablaze when they got into the kitchen. Castiel stood there looking perplexed for a minute before Dean found the fire extinguisher until the sink. When the chemical fluff has put out the fire Sam opens all the windows. It's a clear sign to the neighborhood that the odd tax accountant has set the kitchen on fire again.

"Now will you let him heal us?" Dean snaps. He starts sneezing like crazy and has to have Castiel guide him to a chair to sit down before he falls down.

"Fine," Sam says.

That's all it took. Castiel places his hand on Dean's forehead, and Dean is able to sit up straight and breathe through his nose. Castiel appears next to Sam and does the Sam. Sam straightens up completely when he's been previously leaning against the windowsill to stay up. Yes his nose does clear, but the terrible smell of burning plastic, wall, and whatever was left of the pot Castiel had been using makes Sam stick his head out the window again.

"Can we agree that the next time we get sick we let the angel heal us?" Dean asks, going to open the other windows and doors in the house.

"Fine!" Sam snaps. Out of the corner of his eye he could almost swear he saw Castiel smirk.


	3. Debriel

"Goddammit, Gabriel!" Dean shouted. He knew damn well Gabriel heard him and was just NOT coming out to get the asskicking he so richly deserved. "Gabriel get in here right now or I'm withholding chocolate from you from now on!"

"Now, Now, Dean-o, I'd like to see you try," Gabriel said, a snickers in his hand as he sat on the edge of the kitchen sink.

"Gabriel. Why is the shower producing jello?"

"Cause you're so sweet," Gabriel said without even batting an eyelash.

"Oh har, har, har!" Dean didn't even try to fake laugh. There was Jello everywhere, green and slimy and places he very dearly did not want it to be. He could see himself in the mirror and it was all sticking in his hair and in every single piece of hair he had on his body. This was not how he wanted to start the morning.

"I think you look positively scrumptious."

"Not funny," Dean said coldly. "Come on, clean me up! I've got a hunt to go on."

"No you don't."

"What do you… Goddammit Gabriel! We agreed you wouldn't just solve stuff anymore!" Dean knew what Gabe was about to say, that didn't make him any less angry.

"Oh, so I should have just let the werewolf infect more people before you can take a three day trip across the country to get there?"

"No," Dean said through gritted teeth.

"Then why are you pissed. It's done and we can spend the day in bed. I can even conjure up a good bed, hell a good room even. I don't see what we have to stay in these dingy motels." Gabriel looked imperious and self-righteous perched on the edge of the sink like that. He'd probably magicked in some kind of invisible pillow so it wouldn't even hurt, the bastard.

"It's the principal of the thing, Gabriel!" Dean shouted. There was no logical reason for him to be this pissed, and he knew it. "I'm not your damn pet that you just let out for exercise once in a while."

"See, that's your problem, Dean. Your whole life is hunting."

"So what? Just fix the damn shower."

"Dean, you're worth more than just the lives you can save and the things you can hunt."

Dean groaned. "Gabriel, no chick-flick moments, we agreed."

"No, you told me a thing and I ignored it."

"Gabriel," Dean growled quietly. It was really more like a grumble at this point. "Can you just fix the shower?"

"Why? That's not how I want to get you cleaned up."

"Oh for the love of… fine! I'll get back in bed, just let me get some of this green goo off me first."

"Deal, Dean-o," Gabriel said, snapping his fingers. Dean was left alone for a minute of peaceful, lonesome showering.


	4. Sabriel

"Dammit, Gabriel," Sam muttered. It was rather jarring to walk into a bathroom in Kansas, take a shower, and walk out that bathroom in Kansas and suddenly appear, not in a motel in Kansas, but a very expensive hotel with a view of the Eiffel Tower… in a tower. Sam couldn't decide if it was or was not his day.

"You rang, hot pants?" Gabriel asked with his normal wicked grin.

"Did you at least zap some clothes for me to wear, or do I have to waltz down the Champs-Elysees in nothing but a towel?" But when Sam said it he suddenly felt a bit sick. After Gabriel died, Sam had looked up everything about the Elysian Fields, only to find little he didn't already know except for a few of the corresponding words for it in other languages.

Gabriel might have seen Sam's discomfort, but he brushed over it like a man on a mission. "Don't worry sweet pea, I brought you a suit," he said. Sam turned and saw an expensive grey suit with blue shirt lying on the bed. Gabriel could dress Sam with a snap of his fingers (or without it), but he knew Gabriel preferred to watch him get dressed. Sam shook his head, letting the painful moment go. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to do that.

"So, what's the occasion?" Sam asked once he'd gotten his shirt on. He felt smaller but very strong hands spin him around and start to work on his buttons. Gabriel could be so lazy sometimes, but Gabriel's agitation was obvious now. Sam swallowed and wondered how much time they had, if they were going to be stranded in Paris, and even if they weren't… was this the last time Gabe could create this spontaneous, amazing little trips? For how much longer would the powerful grip stay that strong?

"Stop moping Winchester," Gabriel said. "Our reservation's in half an hour and we're going on foot."

"Reservation?" Sam asked.

Gabriel looked exasperated as he grabbed Sam's tie and whipped it around Sam's neck. "Yes, the reservations I made for out anniversary. You did remember today is our anniversary, didn't you?"

Sam had to look away, feeling guilty. "Of course," he lied. He'd forgotten. He remembered dates well: Dean and Cas's anniversary, his brother and Dad's birthdays, his and Jess's anniversary. That he hadn't remembered this-

"Stop moping," Gabriel said. He clearly had to go up on his toes to be able to smack Sam upside the head, but he did it. "I want to spend the day with you, not your guilt trip. If you're feeling especially bad you can make it up to me this evening. Deal?"

Sam smiled and pulled Gabriel into a hug. "I'm sorry."

Gabriel went stiff for a minute and then relaxed and let out a huff. "Sam, as much as I like feeling the love, we're going to be late. Now grab your jacket and come on!" he insisted. He grabbed Sam's hand like and excitable child leading his mother around an amusement park. Sam had just enough time to grab his jacket before he was whisked out the door.


	5. Jucifer

Lucifer always, always, always seems to know when John's coming home, even before John knows himself. He'll decide to swing by for an hour or two, just because he's passing by. When he gets there Dean and Sam are at the door instantly, pulling him down into a hug. John can smells pot roast of spaghetti, or whatever dish Lucifer has made that's exactly how John likes it.

They have dinner. The boys talk about their day and ask about the hunt. Dean's fifteen now, old enough to do more local hunts. Lucifer agrees, but only on weekends. John's fine with that. He wants to make sure his boys are safe, that nothing can hurt them. But they can hardly be hurt when their other dad is Satan.

When the boys go to sleep Lucifer will crack open a bottle of and they'll laze on the couch. The wine is John's concession to Lucifer. John doesn't really like wine, he really doesn't like it because Mary liked it. It's hard to be around anything that reminds him of Mary when Lucifer's sitting there, one leg pulled up to his chest, drinking a glass of wine the both know is way out of their price range.

But John drinks it, and they'll sit quietly for a minute minutes. John's not around as much as he wants to be, but he's got work he has to do. Saving people, that's more important than what he wants. And the boys have a stable home, and John couldn't wish for anything more than that. John knows Lucifer though, knows while he likes wine, that if John really wants to get Lucifer hot he'll bring home vodka and whiskey, the stuff that burns your throat and puts fire in your stomach.

"Maybe I could stay until morning, take the boys to school," John says this time. He says that a lot.

Lucifer gets that annoying smirk on his face. "They'd like that."

John tips his head back and drains his glass. He can tell Lucifer's frowning even though he's not looking at him. He blindly grabs the angels hand and drags him back to bed.

"When's the last time you rested?" John asks. Lucifer looks guilty. Whatever got Lucifer out of his cage all those years ago really screwed him up. He still has weaknesses he shouldn't have. He needs to rest every few nights, even all these years later.

"John, it's not nessecary."

"Don't care, lay down with me."

They don't argue, they just strip down to underwear and shirts and crawl into bed. Lucifer slowly sips his wine until it's all gone. Lucifer's only put the normal number of blankets on the bed, the amount John likes for sleep. John rolls back out of bed and grabs all the ones out of the closet and piles them on the bed.

John doesn't even have to tell Lucifer not to argue anymore. He just glares at the blankets for a minute before starting to pile them up how he likes. John waits until Lucifer's wrapped in his cocoon before he breaches the angel's blanket sanctuary and wraps his whole body around Lucifer. Lucifer's vessel isn't a small guy, but John's just larger, especially when Lucifer curls up in such a tight ball.

Lucifer's temperature begins to drop as his breathing starts to slow down. Resting is hellish for them both. John finds the cocoon simultaneously stifling and like being trapped in a freezer. Sometimes he even starts to think he's back in Vietnam, not because it particularly reminds him of Vietnam, but because they both are how he imagines Hell, at least now anyway. Lucifer's shivering always pisses John off. Somewhere along the way John Winchester began to associate God with Henry Winchester, the stinking bastard who slipped out one night and never came back, left his son to raise himself with no family or money.

"Dean wants the Impala," Lucifer murmurs. He'll be in something like sleep in just a moment.

"Of course he does, it's classic," John says into Lucifer's neck.

"John, he'll be sixteen soon. A car's an appropriate gift for his sixteenth birthday."

John hesitates. He's had it since before he was even married. It's been his home for so long. It was his boy's home. He treasures it more than any other single thing he owns. He looks up and realizes that Lucifer's turned to look at him, his probably eyes half lidded with exhaustion. John can't see him because it's so dark, but Lucifer can definitely see him.

"It would mean everything to him, John."

"I'll think about," John said, suddenly feeling guilty. He wondered for a moment about Dean and Sam's grades, and what friends they had, and what they did after school. He knew they told him, but he couldn't seem to remember.

"Do that," Lucifer murmured, shifting back into the blankets.

"Yeah, it'll be less likely to get banged up in a job then," John says.

He can almost hear Lucifer's smile. "Always an upside."

John knows Lucifer's asleep when the temperature drops completely. Lucifer shivers so much John always wonders why Lucifer's muscles don't just snap from strain. John holds on tighter. He can nap after he drops the boys off, maybe even say good night to them the next day… or maybe call Bobby and ask him to get someone else to do the job… John hadn't been home for a while, after all.


End file.
